


all that you are is all that I'll ever need

by donutcats



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Diana and Bash ship it, F/M, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Gilbert being soft, Mary and Anne friendship, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 14:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutcats/pseuds/donutcats
Summary: Anne presses her hand to her chest, the one Gilbert had used to spin her, and the heat behind her bones matches terribly with the heat of her palm. It does not feel like the sting of a stove, but the welcoming flames as you sit in front of the hearth after a cold day.





	all that you are is all that I'll ever need

**Author's Note:**

> this was a few vague ideas that I turned into one larger idea. anne in the veil + flower crowns + a small little talk between her and marry + shirbert = this.  
title from Tenerife Sea by Ed Sheeran. I wanted to use that title for a gilbert pov fic but it fit too well with this.  
will I ever write a shirbert kiss?? remains to be seen. the best part of shirbert is the Yearning and no you can not change my mind.

That morning, Anne had sat on her bed, the veil Marilla had given her partially folded in her lap, and she ran her fingers over the light stitching along the edge she ripped. It was finally fixed, after what felt like forever, and she wanted to show it to Diana and Ruby so badly. So she took it downstairs with all the care in the world, and laid it in her school basket, under her lightest book so there would be no need to worry about a sudden gust of wind taking it away.

Anne knew she could have waited until after the school day, but she was much too excited. Marilla had stitched it up just last night, after telling Anne that there were other, more essential items that needed mending before she could even think about working on something so fragile. It’s no wonder Anne was bursting at the seams to show her friends. 

The school day went on as normal as it could, considering Billy Andrews only made a total of two terrible jokes at her expense and Josie Pye only gave her a sour look once. It was shaping up to be a splendid day, especially since the weather was most favorable and mirrored Anne’s mood. It was a warm spring afternoon, and in accordance the girls gathered up their things and sat outside for their lunch. Which is when Anne picked out the veil and showed it to them. 

They all had reactions appropriate for such a moment, even nasty Josie Pye held her tongue as Anne let the veil be passed around. At some point during their chatter, Anne finds herself putting the veil on, to really show off how beautiful it is, and she even puts the veil over her face for the full effect. Diana and Ruby both gush about how _ bridal _ she looks, and Anne is absolutely beaming. 

A hush seems to ripple across the group as she’s spinning in a circle, and when she finally comes to a stop, Gilbert Blythe is standing in front of her, a smile curling at the edges of his mouth. He looks soft like this, Anne thinks to herself, which only leads to a cornucopia of other thoughts all about Gilbert looking soft and touchable and _ lovely _\- she abruptly stops those certain thoughts right there. 

"Hello Anne."

"Oh, Hello Gilbert."

He moves forward a step, tip of his shoes so close to touching her own. The hush has yet to break, and in the periphery of Anne’s mind she suspects the girls are all watching with bated breath. She has no clue why on earth they would be. It’s just _ Gilbert. _ "May I?"

Anne isn't quite sure what he _ may, _ but she nods in response, wondering what it is he's about to do. She knows Gilbert, at least she likes to think she does, and she doesn’t suspect him of insidious motives. If it was anyone else, or God forbid Billy, she would have rather quickly said no. But it’s just Gilbert, and other than the one time he pulled her hair and the scattering of other times they’ve argued, he’s never been nasty to her. 

Gilbert reaches forward, his movements slow and gentle and it reminds Anne of a babbling brook filled with good intentions. He lifts the veil from her face, neatly placing it over her head with the rest of the veil's fabric. "There, now I can see you better." The soft smile from before has grown, spread like sweet honey. "I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

“Is that the question, or is that more of a statement?” There’s something hot and insistent spreading through her chest, as he stands so close, his hands still hovering a bit between them before he finally drops them to his sides with an amused huff of a laugh.

“That was a statement informing you that I would like to ask a question. My question itself, is if you'd like to stop by for tea, after school today? Mary and Bash have been asking after you for days now. The other girls are welcome to come too, of course." Even as he addresses them, his eyes only briefly flicker their way before landing back to Anne.

She, in turn, has been staring at the small crease at the corner of his smile, that one might mistake for a dimple if they weren’t looking close enough. Or perhaps it is a dimple, who is she to say? What constitutes the official ruling of a dimple? Anne flicks her eyes up to meet his, and she wishes she didn’t. Anne prides herself on knowing words but there’s something to his eyes that she can’t find the right one for. All she knows is that it makes the feeling in her chest worse. 

Now is not the time, though. Now is the time for a clear and concise answer without anything threatening to worm it’s way up her throat and choke her. "Well, of course I'd be delighted to, especially if Mary and Bash will be there." 

"They're new to Avonlea too, as you know. And, I was hoping you could, well." Gilbert’s voice trails off, and for the first time he looks a bit bashful, like he isn’t sure how to word it. Or he wasn’t even sure if he should begin that sentence but he did and now he’s not sure where to go with it. His hand makes its way to the back of his neck, and the hot boiling feeling turns warm and rolling at the sight. 

"Give them some advice on being rather new and disliked?" 

"I wasn't going to put it like that, but yes. Don’t tell them, of course. They’re just expecting some lovely tea with, and I quote, _ a lovely girl whom they haven’t seen since their wedding. _ But I know how much you mean to them, being one of the few that accept them. I've never seen anyone overcome diversity quite like you, Anne.” 

Anne ignores the compliment hidden at the end there, focusing more on the Mary and Bash of it all. "Well, yes alright. Tea sounded lovely on it's own, but now, there's a kind and just quest involved. You know I can't say no."

"Perfect! I’ll see you later today, then." Though he isn’t wearing a hat, he pantomimes tipping it to the girls as a whole, sending them a very polite, “Ladies.” His eyes once again find Anne, the maybe-dimple making another appearance, and the rolling behind her collarbone intensifies to something that isn’t quite a boil. Gilbert moves to walk away, but he only gets a few steps before he’s turning, catching Anne’s eye, and saying in that soft voice of his, “You look positively radiant, by the way." And now, she remembers she’s wearing the veil, and she can feel part of the fabric brush her cheek as his smile turns into something soft enough to match his voice. 

With that, he gives no time for any sort of reply, and heads back into the schoolhouse. Anne is left speechless. A second later Ruby bursts into tears.

** _\---_ **

Only Diana and Ruby accompany her to the Blythe-Lacroix’s for tea. It wasn’t the biggest of surprises. Jane and Tillie gave their excuses, and Josie didn’t even bother, which Anne was silently glad for. She would never want such an incredible place as Gilbert’s farm to be ruined by Josie Pye and her snide remarks. 

The weather had held up throughout the afternoon, as bright and warm as it was when she first woke up. It made the trip endlessly more pleasant, since there would be no cold breeze or sudden rainfall to dissuade the girls from enjoying all the wooded path had to offer.

By the time the trio finally arrived linked arm in arm, Anne had tucked flowers into the pockets of Diana’s pinafore and commandeered a stick to use as a magical wand, and Ruby was regaling them with her newest story idea which of course involved a dashing hero named Albert. As much as Ruby denied the -bert names, she always without fail circled back around to old faithful. 

“Anne with an e! Welcome, come in. Come. Anne’s friends! Pleasure to meet you girls.” Bash welcomes them in, with a large smile and his larger voice. It wasn’t loud, per se. Anne knows all about loud voices and she has a tendency to dislike them, but Bash’s voice was large. It filled the room with its warmth and mischief. Bash’s voice always held a fraction of mischief, tucked away into the corners of whatever he was saying. 

Anne loved it. 

“I was half expecting you to show up in a veil.” Bash says, half way through tea. Gilbert had left the room only a few short minutes ago, and Anne suspects that’s the catalyst for Bash leaning closer and sharing this information as if it were gossip fit for Mrs. Lynde. 

“What?_ Why?” _ A cold shiver runs down Anne’s spine. What had Gilbert told them? She didn’t want to think so lowly of Gilbert that her immediate assumption was one of him teasing her, but the small panicked voice in her mind whispered _ maybe. _

“Gilbert was telling us that he invited you over, and he might have mentioned the veil. That’s all.” Mary tries to explain, cutting her eyes towards her husband as she pours some more tea. 

“That’s _ all? _ You must have looked downright _ heavenly, _ Anne-girl, for the way Blythe would not shut up about it.” In a second Bash shakes his head at her, turning to face Diana and Ruby. “Who am I kidding, she’ll never admit to her looks. How about you, girls? Did she really cut such a bride like figure?”

_ “Sebastian.” _ Mary hisses, her narrowed eyes fully trained on him. Bash raises his hands in surrender, that bit of mischief twining around his voice as he says a small _ ah, sorry sorry. _The warmth has taken up residency in her chest yet again. 

She thought she was rid of it, after school had resumed and it had cooled to the natural temperature of her skin and organs. Yet here it is, like embers that were forgotten to be stomped out. Simmering lowly, in a spot she knows as the sternum. The memory of reading over Gilbert’s shoulder as he showed her a book with pages detailing human bones makes the embers in her chest glow brighter.

A second later, before Anne can find her voice and demand Bash to explain what does he mean by heavenly? What does he mean that Gilbert would not shut up about her veil? Gilbert swoops back in, smiling apologetically. “What did I miss? Any good tea time gossip?” 

Anne refuses to look at him. Instead she looks to Diana, who is pressing her lips so hard together they’re looking a bit white, laughter building up in her eyes, and Ruby, whose mouth is in a perfect little _ o _ shape. Anne can’t look at them either. The tea seems like a reasonably safe alternative. 

_ **\---** _

“Oh, you have such wonderful wildflowers.” Anne sighs a little while later, eyes cast far out the window, drinking in the sight of said flowers. Like a sea of color and wonder, and if Anne twists in the chair she can see the edges of what looks to be a tree in the distance. Oh, even more wonderful. She wonders if it’s the second oldest tree on Prince Edward Island. Maybe it knows her other tree, maybe they’ve shared stories and memories, through their leaves and their words that are more like a song to the heart carried on the wind. A thought occurs to her in that moment. “Mary?”

“Yes, Anne?” Mary answers, gathering up some of the empty tea cups. 

“Let’s go and explore the flowering sea.”

“Flowering sea?” There’s a laugh mingled in with her words, but Anne has started to learn the difference between malicious laughter and the type that comes with fondness. Mary looks at her now with the latter filling her eyes.

“Yes!” Anne springs up, grasping Diana’s hand. “Oh Mary, it would be lovely to sit out there and chat, with the breeze in our faces and the aroma of a beautiful spring afternoon!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I have to get started on supper in a bit.”

“Nonsense.” With her other hand, Anne reaches out and hooks her fingers with Mary’s. Her eyes flick over Mary’s shoulder, and she catches Gilbert’s eye. Gilbert, who’s standing there with a dishcloth in his hands and a smile on his face that if Anne didn’t know any better she’d say is positively brimming with fondness. But she does know better. “Let the boys do something for once. I’m sure they’ll be fine.” 

With that, she sweeps out of the house, tugging her friends and Mary behind her and into the acres of wild grass and flowers that take up most of the east side of the Blythe-Lacroix farm. There’s only minimal complaining from Mary, before she’s laughing along with the girls as they make their way towards that tree Anne saw. It’s just as magical as she thought from the window. If anything, it’s even more magical without a pane of glass separating her from the sheer glory of its boughs. 

They spend time in the flowering sea, laughing and running and making up stories as they go. Anne finds another stick that is just as good if not better than the one she had to abandon on the front steps. Diana replaces the flowers that were once in her pocket with fresh ones. Ruby tells the group glumly of how the hero Albert falls out of love with the protagonist.

“Perhaps it’s for the best.” Ruby sniffles, just the once. “I wouldn’t ever want to love a boy who couldn’t love me back.” 

“Are we still talking about _ Al _bert?” Diana chimes, doing her best to hide the small smile threatening to break over her face as both Ruby and Anne glare at her.

Mary indulges the girls for a bit, but eventually settles herself against the trunk of the tree to watch them. She makes a remark about heading in, only a half an hour into their adventure, and Anne rebuffs her, says that if Gilbert and his father could have lived alone for so long without anything burning down, she’s sure Gilbert and Bash will do fine. 

The girls join Mary under the canopy of the tree, and she has to stomp out any urges to try and climb it because while it’s oh so tempting and she could see so so much from it’s loving arms, now is no time at all. Instead, she sits in between Diana and Mary and begins to weave the flowers they plucked into crowns.

“How are you liking Avonlea so far, Mary?” 

“Oh, I’m liking it quite well, I suppose. Of course, there’s always hardships to moving, especially to a new place, but Avonlea is wonderful.” 

Anne knows that tone of voice. It’s the voice you use when you do genuinely like something, but the darker parts still weigh heavy on everything you see. It’s the voice she used during her first few weeks in Avonlea. When she was so ecstatic to live in such a place yet the constant thought of being thrown out loomed over her shoulders, and the vile words of certain people pressed down on her spirit. It’s the voice she still uses, sometimes. 

“I know it can be awfully hard, and sometimes you lay awake and wonder if it’s all really worth it.” She weaves a flower whose petals remind her of freshly churned butter alongside one that looks as if it were plucked directly from the night sky, right before the sun starts to crest. “Avonlea really is so very wonderful, and it has the most splendid people living in it. You just have to wade through all the terrible people, which never seems fair, does it? To get to those kindred spirits of yours, to the people whose hearts feel connected to your own, you have to live with many more who wish to see you fail.” 

Anne looks away from the crown in her hands, and meets Mary’s eyes. There’s a bit of a sheen to them, and Anne suspects her own eyes look the same. She reaches over, clasps their hands together. 

“While I don’t suspect my experiences or struggles will ever be the same as yours, nor will I ever know more than you, because you have been fighting against the cruel grain of the world for far longer, I know a little of how you feel. Displaced and disliked for nothing other than being a bit different. So no matter what, please know that I am here for you, and for Bash. I’m here to hopefully make Avonlea a little more wonderful in your eyes.” 

Mary leans forward and envelopes Anne in a crushing hug. Out here, beneath the leaves of such a kind soul, in the arms of another, surrounded by people with whom Anne feels connected to, she feels no shame in the tears that roll thick and heavy down her cheeks. 

\---

The sun paints the sky in the most exquisite shades of pink-yellow just as Anne catches sight of Gilbert making his way across the field of wildflowers. She spots him almost the exact second he steps out of the house, and she curses herself for it. The door didn’t even make a sound, not one she could hear from this distance, and yet her eyes snapped up the moment he moved to hop down the stairs.

Instead she continues work on yet another flower crown, the one Mary made sitting atop her head. Still, she’s aware of the vague shape in the distance that maintains its steady pace towards the tree. Soon, it looks more like a boy and less like a shadow.

Ruby perks up, with a very thrilled _ “Gilbert!” _ squeaking out of her. Now Anne can’t ignore him any longer, so she watches with the rest of them as he gets closer still. Until he’s right there, a hand in his pocket and a quirk to his lips. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but dinner is ready.” 

Mary makes a show of peering around Gilbert, back towards the house. “Seems as if Anne was right. It doesn’t look like anything was burned down.” 

“Oh ye of little faith.” Gilbert laughs, silently offering to help Mary up off the ground, which she gladly accepts. “We put out the fire long before anything noticeable were to happen.” He laughs even more at Mary’s scandalized look, which morphs into something very unimpressed. 

“While I know you are both very capable, you make it awfully hard to trust.” 

“Don’t blame me. Blame Bash.”

“I will blame the _ both _ of you. Come now girls, let us go and see if anything they made is edible.” 

“You wound me, Mary!” But Mary ignores him, gathering her skirts and heading off back towards the farm. He turns, a hand already outstretching towards Anne, but she’s on her feet, dusting off her dress, a smug smile finding its way to her face as she watches his eyebrows twist and furrow. 

Before he can move or open his mouth to say a thing, Ruby is grabbing at the hand he still has out, and getting to her feet. “Oh, thank you Gilbert for the help.”

“Right, of course.” The smile he sends her looks a bit distracted as he gently slides his hand out of hers. The odd thrill that finds its way into her heart at the sight overpowers the mounting annoyance on her friend’s behalf for Gilbert’s quiet disregard. She ignores it. His eyes flicker up to Ruby’s hair, jumping quickly to Anne as his brow smoothes over. “Did you make enough to share with the class?”

It takes a second for Anne to remember the flower crown on her head. And the one in her hands. The very unfinished one in her hands. For some reason, the thought of it being unfinished fills her with twin feelings of relief and regret. “Well, it’s not quite done, and I doubt you fancy the idea of walking around with something so-” 

“Anne, what about this one?” Diana nudges her side, a wicked little smirk greeting Anne when she turns to look. In her hand is the first one Anne made. With flowers of butter and the early morning sky. The rolling warmth from earlier suddenly starts spreading across her chest like a wildfire. 

“Oh. I almost forgot about that one. Thank you _ so much, Diana.” _

“Of course, it’s no problem.” There’s a teasing titter hidden in her words, Anne can just _ feel _ it. 

With tingling fingers, Anne takes the flower crown from Diana. Gilbert hasn’t said a word on the matter yet, and when Anne looks up at him, there’s that smile again. The one that is so wholly Gilbert. The wildfire spreads.

Gilbert bends down, just a bit, like he’s expecting Anne to crown him, instead of taking it from her like she planned. His eyes twinkle in some mischievous way, but not in the way of Billy Andrews or those girls at the Orphanage. That mischief always spelled Anne’s doom. It’s not even the type she’s grown to expect from Bash, who’s always filled with lovingly teasing words. 

No, this is a different sort of spark. Maybe it’s balanced by the ever present tilt of Gilbert’s mouth. 

Steeling herself, Anne places the crown atop his curls, and she can’t help but to linger and fix it, until the crown is situated just right so she knows it won’t fall off. The butter yellow petals contrast so nicely with his dark hair, along with the few soft pink flowers she wove in to add a bit more color.

“What is it a humble hero says after being knighted?” Her eyes snap down, wide and shocked. His chesire grin only grows once he notices her attention. “Thank you, _ Princess?” _ With that, he stands up, a slow fluid motion, that same spark in his eyes. Now it’s her turn to tilt her head up to look at him. 

The space behind her collarbone is boiling yet again. She’s convinced that if she were to place a hand to her heart, she’d flinch away as one does to a hot oven. The tone in which he said _ princess _ screams at her that he’s teasing. That he knows about Princess Cordelia and he’s poking fun in a most cruel way. But there’s another part of her, just underneath the panicked paranoid screeching that’s saying in a gentle lull, that his voice is filled with _ fondness. _ She wants to know better, like earlier. Wants to convince herself that no one person can sound so filled with _ love. _ But it’s beating in time to her bonfire heart, overpowering her kneejerk worries. 

“I wouldn’t call you _ humble.” _ The words topple out of her, slip spill off of her tongue and she wishes she could swallow them back.

But she can see the amusement in the depths of his eyes, and the possible-dimple creases as his lips spread into something so bright it could power all of Charlottetown thrice over. He takes her hand, in a quick flash moment, and he spins her around, once, twice, startling a laugh out of her. 

“What’s an antonym for humble, then? Since you know so much about me?” 

“Brash, perhaps? Rude? Conceited. _ Egotistical.” _

“No, none of those feel right. I think I’ll go with Brave. A _ brave _ hero being knighted by a _ wondrous _ princess.” 

As they're making their way back towards the house, Anne presses her hand to her chest, the one Gilbert had used to spin her, and the heat behind her bones matches terribly with the heat of her palm. She can feel it even through the fabric of her dress. It does not feel like the sting of a stove, as she expected, but the welcoming flames as you sit in front of the hearth after a cold day.

\---

A week later she finds herself back in the Blythe-Lacroix home, to study with Gilbert since he’s better at maths than she is, and she’s much better at the poetical side of English. It’s an agreement they came to only a few days prior, when Ms. Stacy was the one to suggest it. 

Bash is out doing his best with the farm, and Mary has left to fetch Gilbert, so Anne starts gingerly setting her things down along the kitchen table. Butter yellow catches her eye, and that’s when Anne sees it. 

A flower crown, the petals gone a bit pale as it starts to dry out, hung on a nail on the kitchen wall. Anne swears there used to be a picture frame there. Before she can inspect it, or even work through the torrent of emotions that have suddenly filled her at the simple sight of a flower crown, Gilbert appears, apologies for keeping her waiting already tumbling from him. 

There’s a moment, where he notices where she was looking, and she swears his entire neck shades the loveliest pink. His arm twitches, as if his first instinct is to reach out and snatch it from the wall, so she’ll quit looking, but he stops himself. Sits himself at the kitchen table, and lets out a breath. 

“A knight should be proud of his armor.” The pink seems to dull, just a bit, and he tries to shrug it off, as he busies himself with setting out his own books. He meets her eyes, for a brief moment, long enough to smile at her, and Anne realizes she’s smiling back.

The warm feeling in Anne’s chest has been a constant low hum since that day by the tree, since she first _ knighted _ him, but it flares up when she sees that he kept it. Gilbert Blythe kept her flower crown, and decided to hang it up for people to see. That he’s _ proud _ of it. 

“I’m glad you kept it.” It’s a quiet admission, as she settles down across the table from him. 

“How could I not.” It’s an equally quiet response. The smile hasn’t left either of their faces.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoy my writing and maybe would like to support me in any way, please check out;  
[my twitter!](https://twitter.com/kaijucats)  
[my tumblr!](https://donutcats.tumblr.com/)


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